A Glimpse: Strange Thoughts.

Josh took Oliver to therapy, which gave me some quiet time in bed. I've needed that so much more lately...just time to organize my thoughts or simple accept them. I don't know why that has become so important lately.

It's like floating on my back in a lake. Stars surround me, but they're not real.  The think seems to start automatically. Some of the thoughts--supposed memories, bizarre plans, and imagined conversations--slip through and seem fine.

My thoughts are already getting weird.

Turning a Coping Mechanism into a Coping Strategy.

I think of a coping mechanism as something that a person does not really think though. It's an automatic response to stressors. I think of coping strategies as pre-meditated, deliberate, healthier ways to deal with stressors. Using strategies requires a lot of self-awareness, courage, and practice. I'm thinking about some of my mechanisms and how I might change them to strategies.

1) Excessive silence and stillness. This can come over me suddenly, and I often can't break it. I call it the Tin Man--a sort of paralysis. Since it's not in my control, I have to build practices that will makes my body stop thinking that it needs the Tin Man to keep me safe or sane. So what can I do?

• Read. If only a poem or a piece of flash fiction. It will engage my brain and distract it.
• Talk. I need to tell someone that I'm getting frozen and why (if I know). 
• Trance writing. This was highly problematic when I taught, but at home, I can let myself write desperate nonsense until some clarity comes to my writing and my mind.

2) Soda. I love soda. I could chain-drink it all day. But I know I have used it as a distraction far more than is healthy for my body and my teeth. If I'm stressed or shocked, I reach for a Cherry Coke.

• Quit. I've done this a couple of times, hoping to break the habit and lose weight. I didn't lose weight. Right now, I buy the tiny 8 oz. cans.
• Substitute. I don't like diet sodas. I have milk, apple juice, and sometimes iced coffee. They can cause their own problems, but having beverage options helps.
• Drink more water. I can have as much water as I want. I like that feeling of abundance and gratitude.
• Have Icebreakers Cinnamon Sugar-Free Mints. They're good for when I just need some flavor.
• Take a Xanax. Sometimes, the anxiety is too strong, and I really need help that nothing carbonated can give me.

3) Shopping. I love shopping. I'm not indiscriminate unless I'm quite manic (buying three sets of coasters when we already have coasters. Buying almost identical T-shirts). I love finding new treasures that can become part of my life. I like seeing what people have made or dreamt up. I'm calmer when I know I have plenty of what I need (especially writing tools, books, and comfortable clothes). So how can I keep it under control? 

• Shop my house. I have some pretty decorative boxes above my kitchen cabinets, and I don't know what they hold. Stationery, letters, rubber stamps? I can take them down and see what I can use right now. My desk holds notepads, pens, and stationery. Again, I can dig around and find something to use right now. I can explore my wardrobe for clothes I've forgotten. 
• Window shop online. This one can be dangerous, but it can also help me have fun as if I'm shopping without actually spending any money. I go to a favorite site (Loft, Target, Amazon, Papaya!) and search it thoroughly and fill my cart, adding discounts I find (a bonus satisfaction). Then, I close the page and let it go.

If I have some money, the issue is not so much whether or not I spend it but how I will avoid buying something that isn't all that special or necessary. So I have some guidelines.

• Enjoy buying useful basics like a plain black T-shirt.
• Buy beautiful items. If the work, designs, colors, or details grab me hard, be it a sweater or a notebook, I'm going to pause. If it's also useful, I may make it mine. 
• Buy what's rare. If it's on sale at Loft with an extra 40% off, and I love it, it's probably going to happen. If I see something special and just know I'll never see it again (or never be able to afford it again), I may buy it. 
• Buy what will enrich life. A candle I burn while I take a bath. A pair of unbelievable theatre tickets. A big pink robe to wear when the boys want the AC on.
• Hold it. If I'm someplace like Target or Michael's, I'll hold my favorite items as I shop. I sort of feel out what owning these items would be like. Then, I put away the items that don't speak to me.
• Let it simmer. If I see something special at the mall, I'll continue shopping. When I'm ready to leave, I may go back for the item if I kept thinking about it. If not, I let it go.

I'm always trying to find and develop coping strategies. When almost every moment is a struggle, I need all the mindful coping I can manage.

Spotlight on Symptoms: Desert Mouth.

One of the most noticeable symptoms of the bipolar disorder experience is actually a side effect of lithium. Unlike other symptoms, desert mouth reminds me that I have a serious illness. Minute by minute.

I'd read about lithium side effects, so I knew desert mouth (as I now call it) might happen. And oh, it did. My mouth gets so dry that I can barely speak. My mouth seems to cave in like sand. My mouth adheres to my teeth. Eating can be a struggle. I get suffocating sensations in my throat and chest.

I became obsessed with water (you should see my Pinterest) in all forms. I struggled to teach and had to pause often to drink. I tried many water bottles (my current favorite is Pogo, which I have in hot pink and in teal). If I didn't have water access, I'd start to panic. One day, I kept track of my water consumption for 24 hours. I drank 7 1/2 liters of water. I was up at night, crazy thirsty. Having water with me was as important as having my purse and my inhaler with me. Those close to me are conscious of my thirst and make sure I have water and ice.

I'm drinking water right now.

Self-Censorship.

I think I've always censored myself to some degree. I guess everyone does. When I was a child, I periodically had bizarre, confessional sessions in which I would dredge up every flaw, every sin, every unkind thought. I lived wrapped tightly in guilt, but after those sessions, I'd feel light and clean for a while. I thought about my actions, knowing I would eventually reveal the bad ones. So I often stopped myself from taking candy from the pantry without permission.

Mental illness seems to demand major self-censorship. I don't tell people about every hallucination--some are not interesting; some are frightening. I don't talk about suicidal ideation--why worry others? I don't share my intense connections with and reflections on music or movies.

I don't want to bore, scare, or offend anyone. So I try to keep it down, keep it clean, and make it funny or intriguing. I don't know how well I do with that.

Spotlight on Symptoms: Trance Writing.

What I call trance writing has been one of the more unsettling symptoms of mania for me. My brain seems to shut off, but my hands continue scribbling, typing, texting. The writing makes no sense and does not seem connected to anything. My journal shows some struggles with trance writing and my trying to pull out of it but tripping again into nonsense.

It's okay in my journal. It's even a little interesting. But it started to appear in my teaching life. I'd have to cut (literally cut from paper) out essay comments that made no sense. I think one was about directions to McDonalds. I missed some, and my students were bewildered.

That's when I started to realize that I was getting too sick to work. I seemed to have no control over it. I had to check back over everything I wrote. Stress may be a major cause; I've rarely trance written since I stopped working. I have stress now but nothing like I had before. My brain just can't process stress normally.

I love writing. But I like to know what I'm doing.

Spotlight on Symptoms: Music and Movement.

Music has always been able to change, enhance, or express my mood.

I remember being ten or so when my mom told me that my dad and I have the same experience with music. "You want to get inside it," she said. My dad and I have bonded over music for most of my life. I sang along in the car. He bought me the CD (showtunes) when I'd only saved enough for the tape. He played his keyboard for me. We've gone to many concerts.

Music may seep into my mind or knock me flat. I can become painful when I'm manic. I have musical collages in my mind. A playlist tells a story. I have a Spotify playlist can "This Thorn" (referencing the new testament's Paul and his unspecified suffering), which tells a mental illness story.

When I am even a little manic, I feel especially drawn to music. I sing and dance more. I have to keep moving, either in a cerebral or a physical way. My own music videos play out with colors and images. I usually want to listen to the music on my own--I don't want distraction, and I'm especially vulnerable to any criticism or teasing. Often, I'll wear headphones to keep everything in my head.

Some songs become jars in which I can store my feelings or experiences, so they don't torment me when I can't handle them.

I tend to walk, sometimes outside but mostly in the living room and kitchen, when I listen to music. I walked all over my parents' house when I lived there.

I remember wearing earbuds and pacing around my friend's dining room table when I was 13, trying to calm a crushing crush. Nobody really acted like it was strange. But then that friend, Hannah, did tend to be tuned into my moods.

I see music and pacing as symptom and treatment. If you see me pacing with music, I'm probably having a mood swing. It can hurt, but it usually helps. I navigate between songs that are too much and songs that are just right. But music can also become accompaniment to dark thoughts when depression closes in and I'm suspended between moods. Too much Evanescence, too much Air Supply, too much Sunset Boulevard.

I listen. I pace. The other noises in my mind (especially the voice that tells me I'm always doing something wrong) clear out or at least get quieter. The burns on my brain stop sizzling. Life might be livable. I keep moving. I keep listening.

Spotlight on Symptoms: Obsession.

I've always been obsessive. As a preteen, I spent hours listening to showtunes, planning plays (most of which never happened), and watching the same movies over and over. I did almost nothing in moderation. I went wild for Irish step dance. I had a semi-dark longing to be an actor. I lost my mind over Titanic. I had an intense Harriet the Spy phase.

I've sometimes tries to disconnect the wires of obsession, but I usually just trip over them and fall hard. When I'm full-blown manic, obsessions take on a sharp edge and can be maddening.

Phantom and Sunset Boulevard were two of my strongest obsessions. The music made me feel a kind of pain and a joy of internal freedom. It cracked me open.

Some other obsessions have included stickers, conjoined and parasitic twins, American Horror Story, swimming, water in all forms, certain celebrities (currently, Ben Platt), Fun Home, makeup (recurring!), Betsey Johnson necklaces, texting Bruce (a million times a day for years!), and simply being Bruce's friend (quite complicated and difficult for me until fairly recently).

I made full use of Google and YouTube for all this, pursuing hard. It can be both exhilarating and exhausting. It takes up a lot of time and sometimes money. I try to determine what is fine or good and what is unhealthy. Mania, even traces of it, creates energy that must latch onto something.

Right now, I'm obsessed with Dear Evan Hansen and anything related to it. Though I have been a little manic lately, this obsession mostly just asks for time. It makes me happy, so we're letting it be.

As I grew up, I tried to avoid past and new obsessions because they overwhelmed me. But I'm trying to be open again. So I try to surround myself with what is beautiful and healing in the hopes that my next obsession will be a positive one (even if it's weird).